


Restraint

by spinner33



Series: CM - Close to Canon [52]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Discussion of Father/Son Relationships, Hotch Has Daddy Issues, M/M, Reid is psychoanalyzing Hotch, Trigger Warning for Belts, discussion of child abuse, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid is trying to work.  Hotch wants him to come back to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restraint

It was two in the morning, and Hotch woke to find his bed half-empty. Where was Reid? 

Aaron caught his breath as he sat up in a rush. A distant clacking drew his ear. It somehow calmed his racing heart. Reid must be nearby. Hotch followed the sound of clicking computer keys to the study door. Blue light from the computer wavered around the strange layers of the maps that covered the walls. Was Reid working on a paper or an article at this hour? The start of a new book? Aaron peered inside the room, leaning one shoulder on the door frame. 

Reid was very busy at his half of their double desk, fingers flying over the keys. It looked as if he had poured out the entire contents of his satchel. There were pens, paperclips, handcuffs, and badge, among other things. He had work files spread out for examination like elegant, exotic butterflies. Reid was wearing headphones, and was bobbing his head. He stopped typing and his chin drifted to one side as if in thought. He picked up the long headphone cord and pulled it into his hands like ‘cat-in-the-cradle’, fingers twisting, head bobbing back and forth, back and forth. 

What the hell was he listening to?

Hotch crept closer, silent, so silent, feet like silk over water. 

Reid had his eyes closed while he was moving and twisting to the music. To Hotch’s great delight, Spencer started whispering words. 

“ ‘Let you love fly, like a bird on a wing, and let your love bind you, to all living things, and let your love shine, and you’ll know what I mean. That’s the reason’.”

The Bellamy Brothers?? Hotch stifled a little snort. He bent down over the back of the office chair and wrapped both arms around Spencer. Reid yelled out and leapt halfway up, nearly decapitating Hotch with his headphone cord as he flailed about. Hotch peeled off the headphones and let them slide from one hand to the desktop as he smothered Reid’s scream of alarm with a lingering kiss. Spencer slowly sank down in his chair once more, chastising Hotch in whispers.

“…………SNEAKING UP ON PEOPLE! Go back to bed, Hotch.”

Hotch could feel Reid’s heartbeat thumping fast when he kissed his neck. 

“No,” Aaron sulked. He got between Reid and the desk and sat down over Spencer’s thin thighs in order to kiss him again. “I’m cold, and I need my genius to keep me warm.” 

“I’m working,” Spencer insisted, fending off kisses, dodging left and right. 

Hotch insisted, “You need sleep. I need you. Come back to bed.” 

“If you interrupt me now, you will derail the course of behavioral science history,” Reid warned. 

“What an ego!” Aaron laughed and teased, getting off Reid’s lap, taking playful swat at him. Spencer was getting frustrated. He moved to reach around Hotch and pick up the headphones, but Hotch surprised him by closing the faceplate on the laptop. Reid inhaled like he had been stabbed through the heart. 

“I’m working!”

“You need to sleep.”

“I’m not tired!”

“Only because you’ve consumed enough caffeine to keep you awake until Easter,” Hotch commented as he glanced into the trash can and spotted four empty soda cans. “Come back to bed. I’ll tire you out.”

“Stop telling me what to do! I’m not a child!” Reid snarled. 

Hotch gave Reid the most stern stare in his arsenal. Frankly anger wasn’t what Hotch was feeling though. Reid stared back, equal measures of spunk and fire. He was so gorgeous when he was angry—his mouth pulled tight, his eyes lit like fire in the dark room. Hotch wanted to fuck Reid right here in his chair. He wanted to spread him out obscenely over this desk and ream him until he was so exhausted that he couldn’t move a muscle. 

“Bed,” Hotch ordered.

“Work,” Reid growled. 

“Bed,” Hotch repeated. Reid narrowed his eyes dangerously. 

Hotch snatched Reid up out of the chair. Reid reached around Hotch, presumably to get a hand-hold on the desk edge. Files spilled across the floor like birds escaping from a cage. Aaron jerked harder, and Spencer lost his grip on the desk. Hotch was attempting to carry the biting and snarling Reid back to their bedroom but he was finding the task more difficult than he thought it would be. 

Reid was burning off anger in physical heat. Hotch couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. He had to put Reid back down, in the chair, on the desk, somewhere, or he was going to drop him. Hotch tucked Reid into his desk chair, dodging back as Reid peppered him with slaps and kicks. 

“I hope you’re proud of yourself!” Reid hissed, even as Aaron laughed, poked, tickled, gouged any part of Reid he could touch. His lover cursed and squirmed around. He took one of Hotch’s hands and bit him on the finger. It wasn’t long before the tickles and kicks gave way to kisses, strokes, and soft whimpers of pleasure though. Hotch climbed up, sitting across Reid’s lap again. 

“Am I disturbing you?” Aaron chuckled. 

“My train of thought…..” Reid muttered. 

Hotch rubbed noses with Reid, whose anger seemed to be softening somewhat. Aaron got closer, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, touching his lips to Reid’s lips, soothing his temper with a persuasive kiss. Spencer lifted his chin, opened his mouth to the kiss. Their tongues slid together, and Reid sighed a heavenly sigh. That’s when Hotch felt the unfamiliar coldness on his wrist, and heard the metallic clicking. Aaron jerked his arm away, and the chair followed. Reid snatched his laptop off the desk and darted from the study like a scampering bunny. 

Spencer’s self-satisfied, maniacal cackling echoed behind him. 

“Reid……” Hotch growled in the darkness, following Spencer, dragging the chair behind. The wheels scraped loudly across the floor. Hotch paused long enough to pick up the chair. By the time Hotch made it into the hallway, Reid was disappearing into the bedroom. The door closed behind him. 

Muttering to himself, Hotch carried the desk chair to the bedroom, opening the door, closing it, setting the chair down again. Reid was nestled on the settee, laptop perched on his knees. Hotch sat down in the desk chair and glared at Reid. 

“This is so not funny,” Hotch pouted.

“It is from my perspective,” Reid replied with a Cheshire grin. 

Spencer tapped keys and paused every few seconds to stare over the top of the screen at Aaron as Hotch fumed. 

“You interrupted my thoughts,” Reid chided. 

“Are you done yet?” Hotch growled.

“No,” Reid answered. “Shush.” 

“Are you done yet? Am I bothering you? Are you done yet?” Aaron pouted. 

Reid lowered the keyboard and peered at Hotch again.

“Soon,” Spencer promised. Hotch growled and rolled across the floor, pushing himself right next to the settee and staring intensely at Reid. 

“Unlock me,” Aaron hissed. 

“It will only make matters worse if you struggle,” Reid intoned. 

There was a dangerous undercurrent to his lover’s voice which made Hotch stop and take notice. Aaron blinked at Reid and waited, puzzled, perhaps even a tiny bit scared. It wasn’t a minute later that Reid closed the laptop once more, setting it aside on the bookshelves. 

“I hope you’re proud of yourself. You completely wrecked my train of thought,” Reid mourned. “I was close…. So close…..” 

Hotch felt another stir of nervousness as Reid gave him a stern frown. 

“It’s not nice to interrupt me when I’m busy. Tell me you’re sorry,” Reid requested.

“Fuck you,” Aaron replied crisply. 

“Someone needs a lesson in manners. Perhaps I should find my belt instead of my handcuff key,” Reid suggested. He reached out and stroked one long finger under Aaron’s square jaw and strong chin. Hotch’s eyes got a smidgen wider before he wrestled his reactions down and stowed them away. “Tell you you’re sorry,” Reid requested again. 

“Bite me,” Hotch intoned, flashing those handsome teeth. Reid raised a hand as if to strike him, but lowered a single finger against the tip of Aaron’s nose. Hotch didn’t move a muscle on the outside, but on the inside, his stomach was turning to jelly. 

“No apology? You will be sorry,” Reid warned. He left the side of the settee and walked towards the closet, rummaging around. Hotch was puzzled again. Reid returned with a wide belt, one of Hotch’s own belts, actually. 

“Unlock me. Now,” Aaron warned deeply. 

“Oh no. I think not,” Reid answered. Hotch booted Reid roughly with his right foot. 

“Unlock me, you little fucker,” Hotch demanded. 

“Not until you apologize.” 

“The hell I will,” Hotch scoffed. 

“You will apologize. All in good time,” Reid whispered. He doubled the belt up in his hand and teased under Hotch’s chin with the leather strip. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hotch asked when Spencer loomed next to him. Aaron shuddered when Reid nuzzled a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Would it be so difficult to tell me you’re sorry for interrupting me?” Reid wondered. 

“Yes,” Aaron snipped. 

Reid lifted Hotch’s chin again on the edge of the belt. 

“You can be sorry now, or you can be very sorry before I’m done with you,” Reid warned. Hotch shivered and caught his breath. He hated the smell of leather belts. Usually he could endure the sensation, but the feel of that thing against his skin irritated him. All his desire was draining away as fear coursed through his veins. 

“This isn’t funny. Release me,” Aaron growled. 

“Don’t you want to play? Don’t you want my undivided attention? Isn’t this why you interrupted me?” Reid asked. 

“What I had in mind was something a little more….”

“You wanted to cuff me instead? You’d like to spank me till I’m hard, and fuck me till I’m screaming your name?” Reid asked, rubbing his nose tenderly against Aaron’s as he spoke in a playful, sweet voice. 

“Yeah,” Hotch gulped. Reid smiled back, but again, there was a hint of danger to his usually-innocent face. 

“Why should you have all the fun?” Reid wondered, brushing a handful of fingers through Hotch’s hair. 

“I… um… Reid?” Hotch quivered. Reid yanked Aaron’s head back sharply, and gazed down at him coldly. Even though he knew it was pretend, Hotch felt unnerved that Reid could be so convincing. 

“Maybe I’d like to tie you up for a change. See how loud I can make you scream? How does that sound?” 

“Wrong. So wrong,” Aaron protested, shaking his head. 

“What part?” Reid tormented, nibbling on Hotch’s neck, then his earlobe. Hotch’s free right hand had a death grip on Spencer’s arm.

“Just about all of it.” 

“It scares you? The idea of being at my mercy?”

“No,” Aaron denied, gulping. He wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, but the very sight of a double-up leather belt took him back, pulled out memories he had hidden in places in his mind where even to this day, he didn’t want to go. 

“Are you afraid to let me spank you?” Reid wondered. 

“No,” Aaron lied. 

“You’re going to need a safety word,” Spencer whispered wickedly. Did Reid understand he was seeing genuine terror in Hotch? This was not part of any game. Hotch wasn’t sure Reid was understanding what he was seeing, and Aaron was suddenly too alarmed not to be blunt. 

“Reid, uncuff me. Right this second.”

There was a wretched, horrible shaking in his limbs, a shudder across his skin. Hotch was horrified. He had convinced himself he had conquered these fears years ago, and yet all it took was the smell of that belt to make him remember how it felt to be powerless and small. Reid let go of Aaron at once. Without another word, he produced his handcuff key and released Hotch’s wrists. 

“I’m sorry,” Reid mourned. “I'm so sorry. You do need a safety word, for future use,” Reid murmured, rubbing Hotch’s wrists and kissing him on top of the head. “I’m sorry,” he chanted softly. 

“Why don’t you give me a word to use?” Aaron asked. Spencer was kissing Hotch’s cheek, nuzzling him gently.

"Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories. You have to choose your own safety word. You know the rules. Safe. Sane. Consensual,” Reid emphasized between kisses. 

“I do love when you’re bossy,” Hotch rasped. 

“I’m a fool. I should have guessed that would be a trigger for you,” Reid said, taking the belt back to the closet at once. Hotch carried the chair to the bookshelves, rolled it out of the way. “You do need safety word,” Spencer murmured as he came back to the settee and sat down.

“Peaches,” Hotch said with a hint of a laugh. Reid acknowledged with a nod. Hotch knelt down on the floor and rested his head on Spencer’s legs. 

“I’m sorry,” Reid said simply as he rubbed Hotch’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” Hotch lied, hugging one of Reid’s legs. “I’ve never…I don’t….I… um…”

Hotch’s words fell away. They weren’t terribly necessary, and he didn’t want to go there. He honestly didn’t. Not even with Reid. There was something undeniably soothing about the way Reid’s long fingers were stroking and combing Hotch’s hair. Aaron sat very still for several minutes, until Reid bent down to hug him around the shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” Reid repeated tenderly. Hotch shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help to talk.” 

“Absolutely not,” Hotch snorted, breaking out of the hug, standing up, stroking Reid’s chin and staring down into his searching eyes. He didn't want to talk about this, because talking made it real again, after so many years of convincing himself it was a distant, horrible imagining. 

“I’m here for you. I won’t judge. If there’s one person who can understand about a poisonous father/son relationship…” Reid offered. 

“Yeah, you and Luke Skywalker,” Hotch joked uncomfortably. Reid seized on the words though, and drew unintended meaning from them. 

“Do you see your father as Darth Vader? Are you’re worried you’ll turn into him? That does make a lot of psychological sense, all things considered. If you feel you resemble him physically, as you grow older, you will be uncomfortable with your own reflection. Also there is your propensity for turning to physical intimidation and violence when another male challenges you.” 

“Peaches,” Hotch said softly but firmly, gripping Reid’s chin for a second before letting go again. 

“I will consider the topic verboten if you wish, but if I could ask one more small thing?” 

“Reid, hush.” 

“Why did you find it necessary to disturb me?” Reid asked. 

“I woke up, and you weren’t there. I was worried. I didn’t know where you’d gone. I missed you.” 

“Do you always miss me when I’m not there? You know I can’t be far away.”

“I miss you desperately when you're not there,” Hotch rumbled.

“I do not understand. There are times when you seem to crave my physical presence in a manner most unhealthy. Is it because of events in November? You know I'm all right now, Aaron, don't you? Nothing is going to happen to me. You don't have to be concerned when I'm not beside you. This need you have to keep me by your side. Is it physiological or psychological? Is it separation anxiety?” Reid wondered, standing up beside the settee and following Hotch towards the bed. He slid his handcuffs into the drawer of the bedside table. 

“Everything,” Aaron whispered. 

“What do you miss? Be specific,” Reid ordered, pushing Hotch against the mattress. 

“It's not a mental thing. I like having you in my bed, that's all. I like the way you curl up against my side when you’re asleep,” Hotch said almost shyly. 

“You don't like to be alone in bed? That does make sense. You have slept with a person in your bed for most of your adult life. I suppose you might have also slept with someone in your bed when you were a child too. Did Sean ever sleep in your bed with you? Yes? Having another person there is the norm, and your body senses when the conditions are not normal, and your subconscious wakes you. What else?” Reid asked, pushing Hotch’s hands above his head, climbing up to straddle Hotch’s middle. 

“You talk in your sleep sometimes. I miss that too.” 

“Do you find it amusing?”

“Adorable,” Hotch chuckled. 

“Is there nothing else you miss?” Reid wondered, running one hand down the middle of his chest and slowly lowering the waistband of his pajamas to his hips. Reid was doing his level best to stir Hotch’s desire awake again. It felt more than a little strange, the juxtaposition of the probing psychological questions and the sex kitten manner in which Reid was acting. 

“Maybe,” Hotch whispered, eyes drawn downward by Reid’s sensual movements as Spencer pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. Hotch arched his hips and slid his hands up Reid’s bare chest. 

“Show me how much you miss me,” Reid murmured. He took Hotch’s hands and held them above his head. Aaron darted out his tongue to touch the very tip of Reid’s cock as Spencer offered himself up. Reid caught his breath almost imperceptibly, lips parting around a soft gasp as his eyes slid closed. 

“I need my hands for this,” Hotch insisted, squirming downward on the bed. 

“No, you don’t,” Spencer insisted firmly. Another lick, another gasp. Was Reid purposefully staying just far enough out of reach that Hotch had to strain his neck to make any contact at all? Annoyed, Aaron lifted his arms, yanking Reid to one side and off-balance. They tumbled to the mattress, a jumble of limbs. Hotch quickly climbed on top of Reid. 

“Not that I'm complaining, but this is not exactly submissive,” Reid murmured, but his voice fell away when Hotch licked a strip of rough wetness against his cheek, and moved steadily downward. 

“Sure it is. I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” Aaron whispered, deep voice rumbling with amusement and heat. Reid gave a panicked squeak of sound, fingers reaching forward blindly. Why did he have his eyes closed? Hotch seized those fingers, giving them first a taste of teeth, and then a gentle sucking. Reid’s other hand slid gently around Hotch’s neck, pulling his weight down on top. 

“It's all right if you can’t let go,” Spencer whispered, offering his neck. 

“What do you mean?” Hotch paused. 

“Your control,” Reid gasped, head turned aside. 

“What? You are in complete control of me. I promise you are,” Aaron replied. 

“You can’t give up control,” Reid decided. 

“Sure I can,” Hotch protested, pulling a vial of body oil out of the bedside drawer. 

“You can to a certain point, but no further. Hotch, what is it? Don’t you trust me?” Reid asked. Hotch pushed him back against the mattress, the disarrayed covers, licking and kissing around his bare form after all but yanking off his lowered pajama bottoms. “Tell me…” Spencer pleaded softly. Hotch wasn’t listening. Reid reached a hand through Hotch’s bristly dark hair, pausing him where he was nosing down his sternum. “Stop,” Reid gasped. “Just stop for a minute,” he pleaded, voice trembling. 

Hotch loomed over Reid, face full of puzzlement. 

“What’s wrong?” Aaron wondered, putting the vial of body oil in his pocket. 

“I’m talking to you. Answer me. Why are you so afraid to give up control?” Spencer asked. “I would never hurt you beyond your request. That’s the whole point of a safety word. Do you not trust me?” 

“I do trust you. I can give up control. But not…. Not tonight….” Aaron retorted. Reid frowned impatiently. “I can give up control,” Aaron insisted more firmly. “I’m not afraid.”

“It’s not about fear. It’s about trust.” 

“Are we gonna talk, or can I fuck you?” Hotch wondered. 

Reid snickered softly. “Exactly my point,” Spencer whispered, taking Hotch’s hand, which was crawling south. “Possessive, bossy dominant.” 

“I didn’t mean for that to sound so demanding and one-sided, but….but I…..” Aaron stammered. 

“It’s okay. Whatever it is. Just acknowledge that you are more comfortable when you are the one in control, and I will never physically dominate you again. I certainly won't use a belt. But you have to tell me these triggers. Don't leave it up to me to guess.” 

“I can give up control, as long as I’m on top.” 

Reid laughed softly, and dotted a kiss on Aaron’s bowed head. 

“Hotch, your father is dead. He’s never going to hurt you, ever again. If you continue to be afraid of him, you continue to give him power over you. You need to banish that ghost once and for all,” Reid offered, his face sympathetic as Hotch glanced up. Anger darted through Aaron’s face. 

“We are not going to talk about my old man in this bed. Ever,” Hotch growled. 

“Okay,” Reid conceded. 

“Stop psychoanalyzing me.” 

Reid quieted and defused Hotch with another gentle kiss. Ashamed of his anger, embarrassed that he had lashed out, Hotch tucked his head into Reid’s shoulder and nestled down against him. 

“Sorry,” Aaron mumbled, touching the bridge of his nose under Reid’s square jaw. 

“You don't have to keep apologizing. The topic makes you feel vulnerable, and being vulnerable makes you nervous, and being nervous makes you defensive, and anger is your body’s reaction in times of crisis or attack. All I’m saying is that I’m here if you want to talk.” 

“The last thing I want to do is talk.” 

“It might help to get it off your chest.”

“Peaches. Peach Melba. Peach cobbler. Peach ice cream. Georgia peach. Peaches. Fucking peaches. How many times do I have to say it?” Hotch growled. 

“Avoiding what’s bothering you will not solve the problem.” 

“PEACHES!” Hotch bellowed, grabbing Spencer by both shoulders and shaking him. Reid cringed back, face full of fear. He broke Hotch’s grip. He rolled onto his side, and burrowed under the covers, shutting off all physical contact. Hotch slammed his feet on the floor, and pulled on his clothes as he stormed for the bedroom door. 

Reid let a minute or two pass before he followed Hotch’s footsteps. He pulled on his pajamas in a rush. He grabbed a robe from the back of the door, not sure if it was his or not until he pulled it on, and realized it was Hotch’s. Aaron had gone down the stairs, and into the TV room. As Spencer was crossing the foyer on silent feet, he heard the clank of bottle to glass. 

Reid paused long enough to close and lock the pocket doors, in case they had awakened Jack with their shouting. Hotch was already pouring himself a second drink. Reid crossed the room, pulled a glass from the liquor cabinet, and motioned for Hotch to pour him a drink as well. Aaron gave him a dark look, but filled the glass to the rim. 

Reid took a careful sip of the potent scotch. It tasted bitter, like burnt wood and peat moss. This wasn’t a drink one enjoyed. It was a drink one suffered through to prove they could endure it. This was a man’s drink. Reid wondered briefly Hotch’s father had favored scotch. Was Hotch proving he was as much a man as his father with every drink he took? Reid also wondered if Hemingway drank scotch. Then he smiled to himself when he decided that Hemingway probably drank anything you could pour in a glass. He imagined watching the ultimate man’s man wandering the streets of Key West in a drunken stupor, as was his wont, using the lighthouse as a guide to find his way home. Lest Hotch should think that snidely-amused smile was about him, Reid tucked the smirk away. 

“Peaches,” Hotch muttered. 

“Very well. I will consider the subject verboten,” Reid promised. 

“Thank you,” Hotch said numbly, tossing back the rest of his drink and putting the bottle away. Reid took another small sip. 

“Gah, that’s hideous,” Spencer shivered, giving Hotch the rest of his unfinished glass. Aaron tossed the strong liquor down his throat, and winced as he swallowed. He dropped the glass on the cabinet with a clank, and snatched Reid into a forceful kiss that tasted like a forest fire and repressed anger. 

“I’m sure I’ve got something fruity and sweet around here if you’d rather, precious,” Hotch teased. Reid did not miss the verbal swipe. Usually Reid would ignore such spiteful remarks, let them pass as if unnoticed, but not this time. 

“Is that it? Being submissive makes you feel like less of a man, but that feeling is amplified if you’re being asked to submit to an effete male?” Reid chided, pushing Aaron a few inches away to be able to look him in the eyes. Aaron drew back, chastised by the look Reid was giving him. “It makes you feel more like more of a man when I submit to you? That’s why you indulge me?” 

“My German is a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure ‘verboten’ means ‘shut your piehole’,” Hotch rumbled. 

“Fair enough. Verboten. You've had enough to drink. Come back to bed.”

“Who needs a bed?” Hotch rumbled, hustling Reid towards the big comfy leather sofa. He threw himself down and tugged Reid into his arms, spread across his lap. Reid relented a small kiss but nothing more. “What’s wrong?” Hotch asked. 

“No. Not tonight. You’re angry, and you’re desperate to prove how virile you are. Sex with you right now would be a very bad idea,” Reid said plainly, and not without a disappointed whine in his voice. 

“Why?” asked Hotch, who was no less disappointed or whiny.

“You’re rough when you’re angry, especially when you’re angry with something to prove.” 

“I thought you liked it rough,” Hotch questioned. 

“Sometimes I like it rough but that doesn't make me your squeeze toy, or your punching bag. Why does the mention of your father make you feel self-conscious about your perceived masculinity? Did he ever taunt you about your sexuality? Did he even know you are bisexual? Is that what the problem is? He mocked you for being who you are? Did he beat you to make the 'gay go away'? That would explain why you rushed into marriage so quickly with Haley, in order to balance your own self-image with the expectations of your family." Reid simply could not drop the topic. He wasn't talking to Hotch so much as talking to himself. Hotch reached up and stroked Reid’s right cheek, thumbed over the mole near his earlobe. 

“Are you sulking?” Hotch asked, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m not sulking,” Reid denied. 

“Are you mad about the fruity drink remark?” Aaron grinned, happy he had ruffled Reid’s impeccable feathers while at the same time feeling sorry about it as well. His grin faded away. He didn’t want to hurt Reid’s feelings. He honestly didn’t. He sighed and scolded himself inwardly. Hotch was a very intelligent man, and he knew he was going to be apologizing for decades over that fruity drink remark. 

“No comment,” Reid frowned. 

“It was a cheap shot. I shouldn’t have said that. My mouth got away from me. I’m mad because you’re wrong. I’m mad because you can’t shut up about it, even when I ask you to stop,” Aaron insisted. “You don't know how wrong you are. My father doesn’t scare me anymore. He doesn’t. It doesn’t bother me to give up control, and it doesn’t bother me more to give up control to you because you’re less of… because you’re more… because…. you….um” 

“Yes?” Reid waited. Hotch paused to mentally construct how he wanted to finish his sentence. The future of his marriage depended on the next words that came out of his mouth, and he knew it. “You can be submissive as long as you’re on top?” Reid replied, brow arched, mouth pursed tightly. 

“I don’t see where that’s a contradiction. You, sir, are the bossiest bottom on the planet, and I love you that way," Hotch replied shyly. 

Reid shook his head in amusement and annoyance. Sympathy won over his face though. 

“I do understand. It’s about more than your father,” Spencer whispered, tracing one of the knife scars George Foyet had left on Hotch’s chest. Aaron drew in a breath, biting his mouth closed. Pain blurred his features. Reid took in Hotch’s expression, and his eyes softened even more with gentleness and love. Reid leaned in, nosing Hotch’s chest, dropping slowly down between Aaron’s knees. He kissed his way over each scar, nuzzling tenderly. “I love your imperfections as much as your virtues. I’m here if you need someone to talk to about your other monsters too,” Reid promised. 

“If you say another word, I'm going to spank you,” Hotch warned. Reid shook his head, hands sliding between Hotch’s legs, fingers drawing his uninterested cock upright. Aaron grabbed Reid’s wrists in one hand, and cupped the other hand behind his head. Spencer whimpered softly, swallowing him. Hotch’s fingers clutched too tightly through Reid’s hair, gripping more firmly than usual. Reid was only a few licks and bobs into his task when Hotch slid both hands under his arms and lifted him up into his lap. 

“What?” Reid wondered nervously, drying his lips with one set of long fingers. 

“Reid, don't let me talk to you like that. Hit me. Say something back. I don’t mean to be harsh or rough with you,” Hotch hummed, pulling him close for a gentle kiss. “This isn’t who I am. I don’t mean to snarl and snap.”

“Hotch, there is nothing to forgive. I know who you are, what kind of man you are, which is lucky for you,” Reid whispered, watching as Hotch unbuttoned his pajama top and caressed his skin. “If I didn't feel I could trust you, you would be sleeping in the garage for twenty years, and I’d be swearing out a restraining order.” 

“Don't let me talk to you that way. I don’t like when I hear my father in me.”

“Aaron, look at me. You are not your father. You've never been like him. You will never be like him,” Reid promised fervently. 

Hotch mused a small, sad smile, wishing the words were so. He teased Reid's ear with a kiss, and then he flipped them over on the couch so he landed on Reid, who groaned softly in pain at the added weight. Spencer was spreading out now, eyes closed, head tilted back. Hotch groped under his backside and took away his pajama bottoms, kneaded with both hands, murmuring soft laughter as Reid squirmed forward away from the touch. Hotch swallowed Reid, teased him with licks and tender bites. 

Reid clawed at Hotch’s hair again, arching his hips, moaning in his throat and chest because he was biting his mouth closed. Hotch remembered the vial of body oil that was in his pajamas bottom pocket. He slickened up his fingers, and pulled Reid’s naked self almost horizontal on the couch, sinking a single digit deep inside him while biting and sucking a mark on his left hip. Aaron chuckled to himself as he worked Spencer’s entrance, watching him buck and writhe, and clutch his knees against Hotch’s shoulders. Hotch glanced up briefly to watch Reid’s expressive face as he slid another finger inside, curling forward, drawing fingertips downward. Reid’s mouth dropped open, and he bucked anxiously again, thrusting and bouncing wantonly against the intruding fingers. Hotch nosed kisses and bites to Reid’s closest hip. 

“On your knees, on the floor,” Aaron rumbled. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Reid gasped. He couldn’t comply fast enough. He clutched one of the couch pillows, hiding his face in it, muffling his groaning. Hotch got between Reid’s knees, and entered him with one forceful thrust which brought Spencer back up with a loud keen of pleasure. Hotch latched onto Reid’s neck, kissing and biting, whispering words in his ear. He wrapped both arms around him, and they moved together, exchanging tiny kisses and playful bites. 

“I think….we’re the worst sort….of…..oh god…. worst sort of co-dependent….” Hotch murmured, laughing softly, groaning with the next breath. Reid keened loudly again. “Am I…. oh…..am I hurting you?” 

“Don’t stop,” Reid growled. It was a feral sound that Hotch knew better than to argue with. He so wanted to draw a line around that tone with a bright red pen, and remark on it whenever the topic of dominance came up again. Because if that tone hadn't been the ultimate in authoritative, nothing was. But he had more important matters on his mind at the moment. Hotch filled Reid and stroked him until his lover’s anger and lust was soothed. The faster Hotch thrust, the louder Reid would respond, clawing and groaning, hips shaking, thighs trembling. The slapping of skin against skin seemed loud in the darkness, but not nearly as loud as Reid’s groaning. The pain was clearly turning him on. Hotch hesitated for half a second to get a better grip on him. The change in angle made Reid melt against the couch and mumble incoherently into the poor, unfortunate pillow he was clutching. 

Hotch put his nose against Reid’s neck, whispering to him again. Reid was beyond those sweet and savory words though. He was shaking, seeing stars, and losing consciousness. 

The world rolled back into focus. Hotch had placed Reid up on the divan. He was on top of Spencer, crushing him, kissing his forehead, nosing his cheek, watching him closely for signs of returning consciousness. Spencer moaned and shivered as his eyes opened. 

"You're welcome," Hotch grinned wickedly. Reid sighed happily as he stretched out. 

The leather divan was hot in some places and cold in others, and there was a cold spot gnawing through Reid’s white, hot backside. Hotch ignored the shivering, nestling tightly against Reid, making himself very comfortable. Their clothes were tangled on the floor and over the coffee table. Reid wondered if he was hearing small footsteps in the dining room. Were the pocket doors locked? Was someone shaking the handle?

“We should….” Reid whispered sleepily, stroking Hotch’s hair with one hand. “Shower….bed…. sleep?”

“Mmmm…..sleep….” Hotch replied, his deep voice like a volcano in his chest. Reid felt the words more than he heard them. 

“Stuck together….”

“Don’t care,” Hotch answered. He might have already been dozing. One thing for sure – he wasn’t going to be getting up from here anytime soon. 

“Love you,” Reid murmured, wrapping his arms up around Hotch’s shoulders. 

Aaron responded with a chuckle, pushing himself even closer into Reid’s arms. 

“Can’t breavvve….” Reid complained. Hotch squirmed again, resting his face on Reid’s chest instead of his shoulder. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes. The shift in weight helped. Reid took a deep breath, and yawned, and was asleep in an instant.


End file.
